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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045778">Penance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoICouldFollow/pseuds/OneWhoICouldFollow'>OneWhoICouldFollow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Doggy Style, Dominance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Filthy, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex, Submission, Vaginal Fingering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:42:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoICouldFollow/pseuds/OneWhoICouldFollow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.<br/>Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. - William Shakespeare</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>153</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Penance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>One I wrote back in 2013 and archived, but now unearthed. Fair warning, its pure sex and filth. Thinking of making it part of a series with another character (like Thranduil for instance) if people like it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You sucked cock like it was a religious experience. You took it like you were starving, like it was going to save Middle Earth, your lips dripping with saliva and puffy from overuse. You stared up at Thorin with ravenous, unfathomably dark eyes, your nose burrowed against the lowest part of his stomach, your mouth and throat full of him, engulfing him completely and looking like the embodiment of lust, filthy and insatiable. Thorin didn't have to wonder which sin you were. </p><p>He stood still for as long as he could stand it and then he was reaching for you, hands like steel bruising on your skin in his hurry to grab you and turn you over, only to throw you down on the closest surface, his aching erection still dripping from your ministrations. He rips his own shirt off with one hand, buttons flying everywhere and landing with tiny pings on the polished stone floor, his arms fighting to shove off the offending material completely even as they were jerking at your pants - struggling to get them down as you shoved your backside up toward him, the rest of your body on the throne (this time), and your knees digging into the edge of it. </p><p>Thorin shoves into the tight heat of you nose first, not allowing himself to be refused, his tongue forcing you to loosen around it enough to be replaced by his thick middle and ring fingers, all of which you take greedily, your legs spreading even further as your moans become deeper and rougher and more satisfied when he pounds into you knuckle-deep. He dips his tongue into the tight curl of your back, lapping at the sweat pooled in the small of it, the arch of your spine insane, unnatural. He runs it flat and soaked with saliva and sweat up to your shoulder, giving you one final jab with his fingers which makes you almost purr even as you wince in pain, and then kisses hard at the back of your neck with a panting mouth, his coarse beard scratching sensitive skin and his erection heavy and thrumming against the supple rise of your backside as he positions himself better.</p><p>You feel yourself being stretched out over the ornate chair, Thorin's immense body weight pressing you to lay flatter as he pulls your legs out, forcing you to stand and bend over on the arms of the seat, your backside on full, gorgeous display and spread out just as he liked you. </p><p>You pant and gasp pathetically against the copper veined stone, a shiver running over your entire body as you feel Thorin's amulet, a symbol of Mahal the Maker, dragging from the small of your back all the way up your spine, the bottom of the anvil now shining with his sweat and dancing over your skin. You tip your head to the side to make room for his mouth on your neck, your jaw, waiting for it now, waiting for the moment you craved and starved for, the moment you had earned. You feel the round knuckle of the dwarf lord's thumb pressing into the back of your thigh as he holds his erection in a tight fist just there, the fat head of it nudging you open, torturing you. Thorin exhales in a loud rush of breath over your ear, ruffling the long strands sticking there and drawing the hair on the back of your neck up as his teeth drag against your ear, his voice a low, ragged rumble.</p><p>"Mahal, forgive me."</p><p>You grit your teeth as the dwarf king impales you, your body tightening instinctively, legs spreading even wider than before. Thorin's hands feel enormous and territorial on the curve of your backside as he holds on just there, as he grips your hips and thrusts his own against you, enjoying the sight of your round cheeks trembling with the movement. He leans back for a moment to gather himself, to luxuriate in how tight you are, how blisteringly hot, how all consuming. He was sure you were going to be the death of him, his ticket into eternal flames, his undoing. He always made sure to savour you each time like it was going to be the last. He lifts a shaky hand and grasps the amulet tightly as you writhe in ecstasy beneath him. </p><p>You make noises now that are purely submissive, guttural and with the distinct tone of being utterly filled. Thorin makes sure to never let you once move back against him, never wanting you to have to work for it, just wanting to make love to you, to tear into you until you screamed in the pleasure and pain you always sought him out for. The kind that made you feel alive. </p><p>Thorin laps and sucks at your ear, his voice a vicious whisper against it, filled with hungry threats as he pounds into you - <em>I'll make you bleed woman, you'd better take every inch I give you, Mahal save me, it feels like you're swallowing me alive, how deep do you feel me? -</em> He rakes his wide, blunt nails hard down your back, drawing blood on first try and immediately bending over to lap it up, oblivious to your gasps and whimpers because he knew it was what you wanted from him. He reaches for your arms and contorts them to bend behind your back, forcing you to clasp your hands to your forearms so that he could use them as a brace, so that he could hold on to you more freely and drive into you with wild and unrestrained abandon. </p><p>Just before he comes, he reaches beneath you to delve his fingers between your sensitive folds, finding the pulsing nub of flesh that made you come undone and rubbing at it roughly, painfully, his control over your body not allowing you to move much, not allowing you to writhe as you climax loudly, not allowing you to push your behind back against his hips to get the dwarf's cock deeper like you wanted to, not allowing you to milk him of every drop like you wanted to, because you wanted to be dominated more than anything else. </p><p>Thorin closes his eyes again and concentrates on the intoxicating feeling of himself coming inside of you in hot, thick spurts, claiming you there, marking you as his own, coating your insides with burning fire and not letting you forget him. You are both rigid and shaking for a heart-stopping moment and then you collapse at the same time, both heavy and drenched. You hiss as you feel his hot sweat burn into the fresh scratches on your back, feeling the amulet digging into your skin hard enough that it would leave a bruise. Thorin finally releases your arms and lets you loosen and relax completely beneath him as he kisses tenderly at your skin in pure reverence, leaving wet prayers and words of unconditional love across it.</p><p>Thorin knew he would find himself at the altar of Aulë later that very same day, his still swollen mouth pressed feverishly to the amulet "<em>Mahal, forgive me",</em>  whispering torrid prayers, "<em>Father, let me have her again"</em>, his hands, still warm from your burning, human skin, clasped over the slick metal "<em>Mahal be merciful, just let me have her under me again"</em>, trembling fingers clutching, your dried blood stained under his nails, "<em>Father, forgive me of this lust, this sin"</em>, his tongue stealing out to touch at the charm and sending a shiver up his spine because he could still taste your sweat there, "<em>Mahal, let me hear her pant my name as I take her</em>."</p>
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